


The Werewolf of Lebanon

by Impala_Dreamer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ALLLL THE SMUT, F/M, Fluff, NSFW, Romance, Smut, a bet, brotherly teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 17:10:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17005734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Dreamer/pseuds/Impala_Dreamer
Summary: ~Dean is super tired of Sam’s beard and after some teasing, finds a creative way to possibly get him to shave.~





	The Werewolf of Lebanon

“Ya gotta shave that thing. I’m tellin’ ya, between the beard and the hair… it’s like Abbot and Costello Meet Wolfman in here.”

“Dean, that’s enough, OK? Everyone likes it.”

“Everyone is lying to you.”

Their boots hit the stairs and you looked up from your book, only half listening the brothers’ argument.

Sam sucked his teeth and bounced down the stairs, quickly pulling out the chair at the head of the table and sinking into it. “Whatever.”

Dean approached and tapped the foot you had stretched out on the seat he wanted, and you lifted your leg to let him sit. “Well,” he said, grabbing your foot as soon as he’d settled and pulling it into his lap. “What’s your take?”

Playing dumb, you looked up innocently. “What’s that?”

Dean gave you a dimple laden frown and nodded at his brother. “The beard, Y/N/N. What’s your take on the fact that we’re living with Lon Chaney Jr?”

Giving up on your book, you laid it face down on your belly and sighed. “First of all,” you said, looking at Dean, “I don’t know who that is. Secondly… Sam looks great.” A quick smile to the younger brother who blushed ever so slightly above the facial hair in question.

“What!” Dean gasped dramatically and tightened his grip on your ankle. “How? OK, as soon as we’re done here, I’m gonna learn you some classic monster movies.” He wagged a finger on his free hand at you and then Sam. “Then we’re gonna take Mr. Teen Wolf to the barber shop.”

Sam rolled his eyes so far back that his neck moved too. “Will you stop? I like it!” His hands flew up and then fell down in utter surrender, landing on his denim covered thighs with a loud thwack.

“Well there ya go, Deano,” you announced with a shrug. “Sam likes it. So lay off.” Before he could see you smile at his green eyed shock, you picked up your book and hid behind it.

One long, thick finger appeared at the top of your tome and slowly guided it back downwards. Dean appeared on the other side with raised brows. “I asked if you liked it, Y/N. We all know Professor Lupin likes it.”

With a heavy sigh that barely hid your amusement, you rolled your eyes at Dean. “He looks fine. I like it. Leave him alone.”

Sam leaned forward. “Thank you.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Dean with a childish grin.

“Well, you should.” You nodded quickly, trying to put a period on the conversation and yanked your book from his hold. “Also, cut it with the werewolf trivia, will you? You sound like PopUp Video.”

Dean laughed and sat back, pulling your leg higher up into his lap. “Oh, come on, I have so many more jokes.”

You shook your head. “No.”

He cracked a fresh smile and sang, “His hair was perfect.”

“Get out.” Sternly, you waved a finger towards the door and Dean threw his hands up in surrender.

“Ok. Ok.”

A brief silence fell.

Brief.

Dean clicked his tongue, eyes still narrowed on Sam’s hairy cheeks. “I just can’t get over it,” he let out after a beat.

Sam groaned. “Dean, will you let it go?”

“I don’t think I can, in good conscious, let this one go, Sammy.”

Since it was clear Dean would not let your reading time continue, you slammed the book shut and dropped it dramatically onto the table. “Why does this bother you so much?” you asked, wide eyed and annoyed. “It’s his face!”

“Yeah, but I gotta look at it,” Dean defended.

“So don’t look!” Sam loudly suggested.

“I can’t not look at you, Sam.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you scolded. “Leave the poor man alone. He’s fine.”

Sam mouthed another silent Thank You, and Dean watched your return smile with interest. He narrowed his eyes, observing your body language, trying to catch you a lie.

“You don’t really like the beard, Y/N/N,” he said, leading the witness.

“I do,” you laughed, peeling your eyes from Sam.

Dean chewed his lip for a moment until the perfect plan could take shape behind his mischievous stare. “Fine. Answer me this: do you prefer clean shaven,” he paused to rub a hand down his own face, “or Werewolves of London over there?”

“Honestly?” You sighed and looked between both guys, unable to choose. “I don’t know. It depends.”

“How can you not know? It’s a simple question. Beard or no beard?”

They both hung on your answer as if the fate of the world rested upon it. They leaned in, held their breath, waited.

Twice, you opened your mouth to answer but then slammed it shut. “It…just…depends on the situation. I don’t know! You’re both gorgeous, OK? Leave me out of this!”

Sam laughed and sat back, blushing a bit at your declaration of his handsomeness, but Dean was not appeased, desperate to keep playing and prod you into a new game.

“No, no,” he reprimanded with a little shake of his head. “No one asked you that. I know I’m gorgeous.”

The wink was too much and you rolled your eyes right along with Sam.

Dean cleared his throat and went on. “I’ll amend my question. Would you prefer a beard or no beard…” His lips twitched as he tried to hide his devilish smirk. “…down there?”

Your look of shock broke him and Dean laughed right out. Sam looked as if he wanted to sink into his chair and die, but he held your gaze, clearly interested.

“Ex-excuse me?” Suddenly, an unwanted and intense wave of heat attacked your cheeks and you prayed that neither Winchester could see it.

“Ya know…” Dean merely licked his lips slowly, his eyes glued to your pained smile. “Down…”

“Stop it.” You cringed, closing your eyes to his teasing, wet lips.

“There…” he concluded with a smack of those sinful lips, the resounding pop sending a shiver through you.

Sam took pity on your conundrum and chastised his big brother. “Dean, that’s enough. You’re being rude.”

Dean threw his palms out and shrugged. “Hey, we’re all adults here. We’ve all… ahem…” Thinking that a simple clearing of his throat would fail to get his point across, he said it again, aloud: “Ahem.”

Embarrassment was high and you shook your head, looking away. “Please stop. Oh my god, we know what ‘ahem’ means.”

Dean chuckled and sat back. “Fine, but the question stands…who would you rather have between your legs? Clean shaven, handsome devil like me or the shaggy, carpet-faced bookworm over there?”

Your brain froze for a good fifteen seconds as memory of each of them doing the deed flickered through your mind like a porno ad online. When your consciousness snapped back into place, you laughed awkwardly and sat up, pulling your leg from Dean’s lap. “That is…I…This is not something I can just…pick.”

“Sure it is.”

“No. It’s not.”

Another moment of silence before Dean’s idea sprung to life in Technicolor behind his eyes. “So…”

“So?”

He grinned. “A contest then!”

Your jaw dropped but nothing came out.

Sam stepped up for you. “Dean, no.”

“Yes.” Dean countered, leaning forward and pleading his case. “We take turns. Loser shaves his beard.”

Sam laughed loudly. “You really think I’m gonna lose?”

“Obviously.”

“And what if I win?”

“You won’t.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “If I do?”

Dean pondered for a quick second, puckering his lips as he thought. “Then I'll… shave my balls.”

Your voice returned and you tipped your head towards Dean. “Do I get a say in this?”

He shrugged but nodded affirmatively. “I mean…you are the judge, Y/N, so yeah.”

“Ok. Good.”

“So…?”

Again, the hi-def porn clip floated through your brain, and you found yourself more than a little bit excited by the ridiculous contest. It was silly, really, and Dean was obviously just bored, but..if it got you sandwiched between the brothers, who were you to deny his fun?

“OK,” you said finally, pushing your chair away from the table. “Let’s do it.”

Dean seemed just as shocked as Sam at your agreement, and both looked up at you in amazement.

“Really?” Sam was already drooling at the thought and swallowed hard as your eyes fell to his.

“Yes,” you confirmed. “But…there will be some ground rules. This is for science, after all.”

Sam nodded quickly. “Yeah, whatever you say.”

Dean took a breath and grinned. “For science!”

 

 

The rules were simple.

Each contestant had however long needed to make you see Heaven by oral stimulation only. They could use their hands, if so required, but there would be no dicks out.

Dean would go first, as he insisted was his birthright, and then there would be a forty five minute cool down period before Sam had his turn.

Points were awarded based on how many stars you saw and which landscaped cheek you prefered in general. It wasn’t a perfect set up, but no one was really taking notes anyway.

With all parties in agreement, you shuffled off to prepare.

“This is insane,” you mumbled to yourself, trying to stay as relaxed as possible. “Maybe we should just look for a case instead.”

A cool shower calmed you just enough, but the excitement was real. You had been with both men before, but something about them basically using you to settle an argument was more enticing than it should have been. Not to mention, either way, you were guaranteed at least two orgasms, and that was nothing to balk it.

Once in your room, you toweled off and got yourself comfy, lighting a few candles and setting the mood with some music on your phone. By the time his knock sounded at your door, you were ready and waiting, naked on your bed, covered only by a thin sheet.

“Come in,” you cooed, a ridiculous smile pulling on your lips. You bit down on one side to tame it, but Dean caught the look of excitement on your face before you could cool down.

“Well, hello,” he laughed, gently closing the door behind him.

“You gonna lock that, or?”

“I guess so.”

His grin was adorable and sexy at the same time and you wondered how he could pull off such a feat. Probably because he was, in general, both sexy and adorable.

“What a jerk,” you whispered under your breath, making his head snap around.

“What’s that?”

“I called you a jerk,” you confessed with a slight laugh.

“Oh, really?” He spun around and came towards you, emerald eyes trailing your form beneath the sheet as he approached. “Now why would you go and say something like that?”

“Because you are.”

His knees hit the bed. “Is that so?”

“You are,” you assured him, sitting up a bit and bringing the sheet with you, hugging it to your chest. “You were bored and picked a fight with Sam just so you could get me naked in bed. You could have just asked.”

His cheeks turned pink and the right side of his mouth twitched into the sexiest smirk you’d ever seen. “I really didn’t have this planned, Y/N/N,” he confessed with a sigh, dropping his voice to a low whisper. He licked his lips as you shivered, visibly affected by his new tone, and his right hand dropped to the mattress. “But I can’t say that I’m sorry.”

While you were washed over by his raspy voice, Dean pinched the sheet between his fingers and yanked it away with a flourish. The white cotton whipped through the air, billowing behind him as you gasped at the sudden rush of air against your bare skin.

Dean sucked his bottom lip harshly between his teeth and let it out with a growl. “Yeah, so not sorry.”

He was on the bed before you could take your next breath, stalking over to you like a hungry wolf. He crawled low, his breath passing over each inch of you as he climbed upwards, never touching, merely hovering.

When he reached the top, you grinned up at him, darling to lift a hand to his cheeks.

“Hey, baby,” he crooned.

Your heart leapt. “Hey, yourself.” Your palms fell against his freshly shaved cheeks and you hummed in approval. “So smooth.”

“Thought I’d freshen up a bit before dropping by. You know, for science.”

“It’s very nice.” Pushing up a little bit, you pressed your lips to his left cheek and took a deep breath, drinking in the lingering scent of his soap and aftershave. It was dark and classic with a hint of spice, and you closed your eyes, savoring the warmth it spread through your system. “Smells good, too.”

“I’m all about science,” he whispered while turning his face to catch your lips. His kiss was wet and deep, and it closed your eyes in an instant.

He rocked against you as his tongue prodded yours, and you felt him, semi-hard between your legs. The pressure felt amazing but sadly, it wasn’t allowed.

“I think you’re breaking the rules, Mr. Winchester.”

His lips dropped to your neck, sucking hard against your pulse as his hips pumped again. “It’s not out,” he said, emphasizing the last word.

The rough denim rolled against your pussy and you moaned as a gentle throbbing tool hold. “Skirting the rules, then,” you corrected, dragging a hand through his thick hair and scratching as his teeth scraped your shoulder.

“Sorry.” It was barely an apology, but it didn’t matter. His hips moved back as he slid down your body, his soft skin gliding across your breasts, plump lips decorating your belly with delicate kisses.

“S'all…good…”

By the time settled between your legs, you couldn’t remember what the rules even were, let alone how he had broken them.

Dean pushed your knees apart with his flannel covered shoulders and sank down onto his stomach. Puckering his lips, he blew a line of hot breath against your slit, pushing the air upwards from your ass to your clit. You shivered and watched your hips, very ready for more.

Instead of diving in, Dean lay his velvety cheek against the tender flesh of your inner thigh and rested his head, bringing a single finger up to tease your quivering cunt. Very slowly, upwards and downwards, he dragged his thick finger, never pushing inside, never lingering. He watched as you pulsed with desire, memorized each moan and whimper, adjusting his speed or pressure as needed to pull the most sinful of noises from your lips.

“I still…think…”

Mid sentence, Dean dipped the very tip of his finger inside your folds, easily sliding against the thick wetness he’d created with his teasing.

“Well, that’s no good,” he chuckled. “Gotta get you to stop doing that.”

“You’re cheating!” You managed to squeak out the end of your sentence before Dean went all in.

He kissed his way across the crease of your thigh and replaced his trailing finger with the tip of his big tongue. His mouth was hot and you gasped at the sudden change, shoulders lifting from the bed as he started to fuck into you with slow, lazy jabs.

“Wow…”

His nose bumped your clit and the bed rocked slightly as he pushed himself forward, using more than just his tongue to get the job done. His smooth face slid easily across your sensitive flesh, offering no resistance or scratch, nary a burn or hint of discomfort. It was relaxing and delightful, and when Dean lifted his tongue to attend to your throbbing bud, your eyes rolled shut and your voice flowed freely.

“Jesus, fuck!”

Dean hummed as he worked, encouraged by your blasphemy and each mechanical twitch of your muscles around him. Your thighs clenched, your pussy fluttered, stomach tensed. Each move Dean made was met with a definite and automatic reaction and he loved every second of it.

At some point, unable to stand his leisurely pace any longer, you reached down and grabbed hold of his ears, keeping him in place while your hips began to shake. Thankfully, he took the hint and picked up his speed, making you cry out as the finale approached.

“Dean, please!”

He smirked against your pussy and jabbed three thick fingers deep inside, curling them gently once his knuckles were covered. His middle finger pulsed against your sweet spot and you bit back a scream. All the teasing, the anticipation, the contest itself had wound you up so tightly that there was no point in even trying to hold on any longer.

Another roll of his tongue, a quick push of his hand, and you broke around him. You tugged on his ears as you came, your entire body pulling in on itself and then after a magnificent second of utterly frustrated tension, everything let go. You relaxed your hold, released a screaming breath, and came in a stuttering wave on Dean’s plump lips, soaking his perfectly shaved face as he drank you down. 

For a good ninety seconds, you could not move. Your vision was whitewashed, your breath was quick. All you could do was lay back and try to steady your racing heart.

Dean cleaned you up with a greedy tongue, amused by the aftershocks that shook your body as he lapped at your pussy. As your breath began to slow, he kissed his way back up your body, gently wetting your goose pimpled skin with his swollen lips.

A kiss to your sweaty cheek as he rolled onto his side and propped his head up to look down at you. “How ya feelin’?”

His grin was cocky and you strained to remain neutral and not be taken by him.

“Pretty good,” you lied, injecting an air of nonchalance into your voice.

“Just pretty good?” he asked with a laugh. “Sounded like you went passed ‘pretty good’ and hit ‘amazing’.”

“You’re so full of yourself sometimes, Dean.”

He shrugged and flashed a million dollar smile. “When you’re good, you’re good.”

Shaking your head, you rolled over and kicked your still-shaky legs off the side of the bed. “OK, Casanova… hit the road. Your time’s up.”

You could almost feel his dramatic pout as he reached out for you. His left hand landed lightly on your shoulder, fingers curling as he attempted to pull you back down. “Where’re you going?”

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” you said definitively, shrugging him off. This was no time for cuddles. “You are going away.”

He sat up as you stood. “May I… escort you? Maybe… join you?”

With a sigh, you grabbed your towel and fit it around your chest. “If you’re trying to earn extra points, I’m sorry to tell you, you’re score’s already been tallied.”

“Come on…” He was behind you now, fingers tickling their way up underneath the still damp cotton around your thighs.

“No!” You shooed him away and backed up towards the door. “You wanted a contest; fair is fair. You’re done. Hit the road.”

“Don’t I even get a hint at my score?”

You crossed your arms and shook your head. “No. Now scat!”

Dean tucked his chin while he laughed and admitted defeat. “Fine.” With a dramatic flick of his wrist, he threw the lock and pulled the door open. “Well, good evening, madam,” he said with a bow. “I eagerly await your feedback and results.”

“You’re so weird.”

With a wink, he was gone.

 

The second shower of the evening preparing for the second contestant and impending second orgasm of the evening was quite interesting. The water was just cool enough to calm you down, but your skin was overly sensitive and the slightest touch made you bite your lip and shiver.

Dean had been nothing short of amazing. Ten points to Gryffindor.

But Sam was next, and Sam was so different, so intense on a whole other level, and the thought made your stomach flip with excitement.

Sam was leaving his room as you walked down the hall to yours. A wave of nervous energy slapped you both in the face resulting in an awkward chuckle from Sam and a ridiculously toothy grin from you.

“Hey.”

Your cheeks were burning and your towel was slipping but you held yourself together as best you could. “Fancy meeting you here, Sam.”

He laughed softly and chewed his lip, looking away for a second. “I was…um…”

“Coming to see me?”

His eyes were huge when he turned back to you, dipping his chin slightly as he looked down. “Yeah.”

“Well, here I am, Stud.”

You meant to tease him, but his face grew bright red and he shifted back and forth on his feet, uncomfortable and anxious.

“Sam…” You reached for his hand, wrapping your fingers around his pinky and ring finger and giving a little tug. “If you don’t wanna do this, it’s OK. It was all just for fun. I’m not really… there’s not really gonna be like a trophy or anything.”

Sam relaxed a little, dropping his shoulders with a slow exhale as he twisted his hand in yours. His fingers splayed through yours and the seal was tight. “I want to,” he said honestly. “It was just a little…weird, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. But he needs a distraction and… I gotta say, as far as Dean distractions go, this one was OK by me.”

Sam, thankfully, echoed your laugh. As he settled, his thumb snuck between your clasped hands to swirl lightly around the hollow of your palm. “Has been a while,” he said with a hint of suggestion.

“It has indeed, Mr. Winchester.” 

The game was still on.

The room was just as you’d left it, candlelight dancing upon the bricks somehow in time to the soft music still pulsing from your phone.

Sam followed you in, but you left him by the door, deciding that he should have the same conditions that Dean had, if all was to be fair.

Your towel fell and you heard him suck in a sharp breath. The lock was turned as you climbed into bed and set yourself up against the pillows. The sheet was still across the room where Dean had tossed it, but there was no need for it; Sam was too quick for you anyway.

Just as your knees fell flat in comfortable relaxation, Sam pounced, crossing the floor with impossibly graceful speed and appearing by your side. He sat by your hip and dipped his chin.

“You ready?” he asked, staring down at you, the hazel of his eyes picking up the blue from his shirt and running away with it. You tried to pick out the swirls, but there were too many, and his breath was hot and distracting against your lips.

“Mhm.” A hum against a swallow was all you could manage, now caught in the spell of him.

He exhaled softly and parted his lips, so perfectly pink against the dark beard. “You sure?” he teased, still hovering just out of reach.

You felt a rush of blood leave your head as if gravity were ripped suddenly away. Somehow in the swoon, you lifted your hands to his cheeks, brushing your fingertips over the soft hair that covered him. It was thick and full, but perfectly trimmed; soft just like his hair, with the faintest hint of gray near the base of his jaw.

“Kiss me, Sam.”

It was rough and delicious. His tongue parted your lips instantly, snaking inside like he belonged there. You breathed deeply as he took you in his arms, practically crushing you as he shifted closer on the bed. He smelled like oranges and mint with an underlying note of black coffee; bitter and sweet at the same time, just like him. The thought distracted you to his movements, and before you knew it, he’d left your mouth to make his way downwards, nipping and sucking at any space he deemed worthy.

You closed your eyes and stretched out, trying to relax as you tracked his progress, but he was unpredictable and it was pointless to follow him. A kiss on your jaw, a hard suckle upon your left nipple, a bite on your hip, a nuzzle on your collarbone. He was everywhere and infuriating in his randomness. Wherever he felt like going, he went. Whatever he wanted, he took.

“Sam, please…” you whined as his lips grazed the soft patch of flesh below your navel, and you felt him smile.

“Something you want, Y/N/N?” he asked, shaking his head slowly, tickling you with his long locks.

“You’re so mean.” You arched your back and thrust your hips upwards, hoping he’d catch your drift. “Please?”

You looked down just as he looked up and the lust in his eyes made your heart stop.

“Lift your knees.”

His deep voice shot right through you and you did as he ordered, kicking your heels up towards your ass so that your knees were high and your pussy was open. A smirk pulled at the side of his mouth and then Sam was gone, bending his neck to finally taste you.

You tried to focus on the long swipes of his tongue or the greedy pull of his lips, wanting to give him an honest review later, to be an impartial judge in this most absurd game; but it was impossible. Sam devoured you with a intense hunger, invoking sensations that allowed you little more than seconds to breathe in between gasping, loud breaths that quickly turned to screams. At one point, fearing the new occupants of the Bunker, you slapped a pillow over your face, hoping to stifle your cries.

Sam would not relent.

Your first orgasm was a small but powerful one, focused entirely on your swollen clit. Sam stole your breath with alternating flicks of his hot tongue and heavy pulls of his entire mouth, completely and calculatingly avoiding any contact with your dripping entrance that was aching to be filled.

Out of breath and desperate, you pushed your pillow away and tried to sit up, but Sam held you down, still swirling his tongue around your clit. He moved slowly now, but the pressure was building up again, and your muscles clenched painfully around nothing.

“Sam…Sam that’s…fuck. Please. No more. Wow.”

A faint, muffled laugh was his reply as his hands snaked around your body, pulling you down closer, locking you in place with giant palms on your belly.

“Sam!”

“I think you have one more in you,” he growled against your inner thigh, taking just a second to look up with a devilish grin.

You swallowed hard, shocked and knocked dumb by the look in his eyes. He waited until you nodded quickly, your entire being craving more.

This once began as a low rumble. Your clit was aching, overstimulated and just on the verge of pained. Sam began again, gently, winding you up as if he had all the time in the world. It didn’t take long, however, until your heart was pounding and your legs were trembling around his head. You flinched at every swipe of his tongue, body convulsing as he brought you right to the very edge.

When your fingers could not grab enough of the sheet to satisfy their emptiness, you reached down and found a fistful of his long hair, giving him a hard tug without even thinking.

“Sam. Winchester.” You panted his name and his eyes popped up to check on you. Seeing nothing but unabashed passion, he smirked and kept at it, his right hand leaving your hip to plunge deep inside your needy cunt.

You broke almost instantly, shouting to the ceiling how much you both hated him and loved every second of his sinful mouth. Curses flung like fireworks around the small room, ringing loudly in your ears, but there was no stopping the filth that rolled off your tongue.

When the quaking had ebbed, Sam pulled away, sitting up on his knees while he watched you thrash about.

“You are so loud,” he scolded, wiping a hand down his glistening mouth. His beard was wet, tiny droplets of your cum sparkling in the candlelight like snow on a pine tree.

Your arms flew up, fingers curling, begging him to come to you. “Please!”

He fell forward, arms landing first by your shoulders to brace himself. He looked down with a handsome smile, full of pride and pity, his lips dark and swollen, eyes dark. “You OK?”

You grabbed at him, shaking fingers clawing at the buttons of his shirt, desperate for more.

“What are you doing?” He laughed as you managed to release the first few buttons.

“Need you,” you begged, dropping your fingers to his belt. “Now.”

He gasped slightly as you yanked at the leather around his waist, the forceful pull jerking his hips forward. “Whoa. What about the rules?”

The zipper fell and you paused, looking up at him with wild eyes. “Screw the rules, Sam.” You tucked your hand inside his jeans and rubbed your palm against his cock. “I need you to fuck me.”

A second of indecision pulsed behind his eyes; you could see the thoughts tumble, making his eyelids twitch ever so slightly. Another stroke of your hand against his cock sealed the deal and the rules were officially broken.

His clothes met the sheet across the room; a messy pile of evidence if there ever was one.

“You need to stay quiet,” Sam whispered as he sank between your legs, thrusting slowly inside without resistance. “Don’t want him to hear.”

You shivered and bit your lip, quickly transforming your cry into a deep moan as he began to move, finally filling you up, giving you everything you needed. It was hard to stay quiet, but Sam helped with distracting kisses, nibbling on your lips whenever your volume rose, and plugging your mouth with his big tongue when all else failed.

In the end it was a wave of warmth passing over you from head to toe and back again. There was definitely a winner tonight, and it was without a doubt, you.

Morning came quickly; the alarm on your phone no match for the growling rumble of your stomach. 

A stretch and a roll to the left had you face to face with a half asleep Sam, his eyes clear and happy, a soft smile upon his lips.

“Mornin’,” he said, voice cracking adorably.

You smiled and set your hand upon his cheek, gently petting his beard. “Ya know, I do like it. It suits you. But if it’ll shut him up, for fuck’s sake, shave it.”

His laugh was quiet but it shook the bed. “You think?”

“You can always grow it back.” You sighed and leaned closer, angling for a kiss. “Besides, I kinda miss the scruff.”

 

Dean was already up and waiting, busying himself by the stove, filling the kitchen with the heavenly scents of toast and bacon.

“You’re up early,” you teased, walking in and grabbing a mug.

Dean spun around, giant fork in hand, smirk upon his freckled face. “Thought you could use a hot breakfast this morning. You had a busy night.”

“That I did…”

The coffee was hot and the bacon was delicious. You ate quietly, savoring the food as well as the frustrated look on Dean’s face as he sat across from you gnawing on a strip of bacon.

“Are you really not going to tell me who won?”

You swallowed and sat up, bringing your mug with you. “Patience, darling. All will be revealed soon.” You winked over the rim, hiding your knowing smirk.

Dean huffed and crossed his arms on the table, slumping down, slightly defeated. “Yeah, guess we should wait for Sam.”

The wait wasn’t too long, for the moment Dean’s forehead hit his arm, Sam appeared in the doorway, bounding down the steps as usual.

“Good morning,” he greeted, immediately turning towards the coffee pot.

Dean’s head popped up and you watched a victorious smile spread wide across his face. “Hey!” He looked at Sam, freshly shaved and Sam again, then to you, then back. “He…did I? I won?”

After a quick glance at Sam, you nodded to Dean, smiling kindly. “You won.”

“I won! Yes!” He stood up, nearly falling off his seat, and pumped his fist in the air. “Yes!”

His dance and gloating would have been beyond obnoxious, but it made you happy to see him happy again. It had been too long.

Sam sat next to you, patting your shoulder; the secret plan between you had been a success. So what if you lied a little, it was for a good cause. It was for Dean. And he needed a win.

Returning to the table, Dean let out an excited sigh and grinned like a fool. “Well, look at that,” he said proudly, waving a hand at Sam’s smooth cheeks, “It seems that The Werewolf of Lebanon has finally been vanquished.”


End file.
